Lift me up on a Saturday morning
by DoReMe19
Summary: Derek loves Saturday mornings now that Jennifer is involved. He loves Saturday mornings so much that today he just can't stop himself from asking her a very intimate and important question. This comes from a prompt I got on Tumblr


Saturday morning.

A year ago Saturday morning meant nothing to him: it wouldn't make any difference from any other morning.

He would wake up, ready to deal with all kind of shit his life would turn into: enemies, teen wolves, death, family loss, injuries, family members resurrecting. Things like that.

Any morning was just a shitty morning, a year ago.

Now Saturday morning is his favorite: now it's the morning he stays in bed late, snuggling into soft skin and burying his body under the sheets.  
Saturday morning now means butterfly kisses and delicate strokes. It means wet lips all over his body, pleasuring him as the sun rises before falling back in a lazy sleep with his arms around warm flash.

A year ago Saturday morning was just another lonely cold morning, but now it's the morning he spends naked in bed with Jennifer until noon: no heavy thoughts burdening his heart.  
Only her light and delighted voice whispering jokes and stealing promises from him: to not get dressed, to let her eat in bed, to do kinky lovemaking, to take her to the movies.

To spend the afternoon book shopping.

Book shopping with Jen always turned out into something that resembled more of a lesson than anything else; a pleasant lesson, actually.

There was this place, the "Pic your book, drink your tea" - a ridiculously long name for a book store -, where you could sit and go through your choices as you had something to drink before you bought them.

They would select different books and, every time, she would drag him to the reading space, sit in his lap and they would read through the first chapters of a couple of books and get sucked in analysis.

Every single time.

Sometimes she would get a little too enthusiastic and those were the times it turned into a literature lesson, but those were the one he loved the most: she would talk with so much passion, explaining him stuff he already knew as if was one of her kids, waiting for him to join her into parallelism and brilliant ideas.

He always stared at her in awe as he explored the books, listening to the sound of her voice and enjoying the feeling of her caresses.

It was on a Saturday afternoon like that, buried in an armchair of that book store with her in his laps that she turned his heart upside-down unpredictably.

She said it first, six moths ago.  
She said "I love you.". On a Saturday afternoon.

Maybe he loved Saturday afternoons even more then Saturday mornings.

It took him forever to find the courage and the voice to say it back. Literally forever.

"It's not that I don't feel it, too." he told her one Saturday morning after she made love to him, whispering I love yous over and over again as he came under her, "I just can't say it back. I don't why."

Framing his face with her warm hands, she just said:  
"Say what back? Just kiss me and look at me. That is the way you talk better, and I love it. I love you."

One peck.  
Then she would sing-song in a small smile "You say it best when you say nothing at all." laughing with him and rolling on her back as he attacked her lips.

He still couldn't say it; not until yesterday night.

She came straight to his place after school, like every Friday; a kiss on her lips ready to be given to him and a paper bag in her hand.

"What's in there?" he asked, moving his hands around her waist and sucking her lower lips in his.  
"It's something you need to try."  
"Is it dirty?" he joked and she giggled, moving away from him and walking to what was supposed to be his kitchen (his extremely basic kitchen).

"Nope, it's magic food."  
"Food? Jen, really?" he mumbled, a little disappointed as he sat at his breakfast counter, watching as she collected plates and two spoons.

"Don't underestimate the power of food. Just because you are weird and forget to eat, it doesn't mean that you can't be surprised by what food could do to you."  
"I'm more interested in what you could do to me…"

She ignored him and busied herself as he moved to his couch, waiting for her to join him there.

Tiramisù.  
That was her magic food.

"Taste it."  
"I've had tiramisù before, Jennifer."  
"No, you haven't. You tried those things people sell you as Tiramisù," she said passing him a plate with a giant slice on it and a spoon, "but this is the real deal. Recipe straight from Italy."

"You did this?" he asked digging in the dessert and examining it.  
"Absolutely not. I'm a teacher, I know nothing about this stuff. But I know where to get it."

He hesitated, narrowing his eyes at her and waiting for more explanations.  
"Oh, stop it! Just try it, ok?"

He smirked and followed her orders, then, closing his eyes as the sweet and full flavor of coffee, cocoa and mascarpone cream, attacked his taste buds.

It was good. It was so good, it literally brought happiness to his stomach.

"So?"  
"Amazing!"  
"See? You should trust me…"  
"I do trust you."

"Well, you should blindly trust me always, then."  
"It's… I don't know… Like, joy on a plate."  
"That's why it's called Tiramisu… It's "tirami su", which literally means "lift me up"… brings a smile to your face, right?"

He simply nodded, stuffing his mouth with more cream and swallowing it as he enjoyed the sweetness rolling over his tongue.

"You are always lifting me from the floor to drag me somewhere and do our dirty little things, Derek. You are my Tiramisù." she reflected and he laughed, chocking on his dessert as she added, "What am I?"

He put his plate on the floor at that and crawled to her, moving in her lap as she abandoned her own plate next to her on the couch.  
"Move, you fatty! You are big, you'll crash me!"  
"No, I won't," he whispered cradling her face in his hands and tilting her head up to be able to rub their noses together.

"There's something unconventional about this position," she joked, pushing her lips onto his a little.  
"We are unconventional, aren't we?"

Then she kissed him properly and he moved up on his knees, bending slightly to be able to keep their lips locked and whispered in her mouth:

"I guess you can lift me up too. You are my tiramisù."  
"I love it."  
"What? The food or being a tiramisù?"  
"Both." she laughed dipping her fingertip in her plate and feeding him some cream.

He closed his lips around her digit and smiled before he swallowed a lump of fear that had been in his heart forever and, staring straight in her eyes, he murmured:

"I love you."

Took him a dessert to lift the weight from his chest and free the courage to verbally express his feelings.

Maybe that was really magic food. Or maybe he just couldn't hold it in any longer.

She didn't make a big deal out of it, 'though; she simply smiled, kissed him one more time and said it back.

This Saturday Morning, as he stood in his shower, he could hear her moving around his kitchen, singing along to some ridiculous pop song.

He loved Saturday mornings. Saturday Mornings Cora was never around. Another reason to love this day.

He got out of his bathroom, his skin still covered in small drops of water, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants.  
Jennifer was sitting on the table, examining what he thought were some of her students essays and humming what sounded like a Katy Perry song.

Seriously. Katy Perry.

"Jen, what the hell is this noise?" he asked approaching her barefoot and smiling when she lifted her head to tangle her long dark curls in a messy bun; she was covered in the shirt he was previously sleeping in and her naked legs were swinging with the music.

She was gorgeous.

"It's happy music!"  
"No, it's disturbing."  
"Oh, don't be so old… Everybody loves Katy."  
"I don't…"  
"That's because you are boring." she said when he reached her, lifting her arms to his shoulder to hook her wrists around his neck as he moved between her knees.

"Am I?"

The music got suddenly louder then, high notes exploding around them as Jennifer jumped a little up and down, singing with exaggerated passion.

"I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire…"  
"Stop…"  
"… 'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me ROAR."

He pecked her lips in order to shut her up and she laughed out loud, lacing her ankles around the back of his keens and bringing him closer.

"Roar for me!" she said, the amused smile shining in her eyes and reflecting in his.  
"I don't roar."  
"What do you do, Alpha?"  
"I growl." he joked, lifting her ass a little to drag her on the edge of the table and she let him, still singing as she shook her head.

He got silent all together, his eyes exploring her face, her messy hair, her moving lips; his hands mindlessly running up and down her thighs.  
It took him one year to finally trust her with his heart and, watching her - relaxed and comfortable in his arms -, he realized that he didn't want to think about her leaving his life. Not anymore.  
He could, before. But not now.

She ended the chorus, sighting happily, apparently satisfied with her pop music tastes: that's when, surprising them both, he blurted out:

"Marry me."

He felt her chest freeze against his, her breathing suddenly non-existent, and her lips parting with shock; if he could be honest he'd admit his own shock. He never thought he would be in this position, with a woman he loved in his arms and his heart beating crazy with fear of rejection.

He never thought he would have had a chance at love, not with someone that knew and accepted him.  
He gave up hope a long time ago, but here he was, in love with someone that was able to put a smile back on his face and desperately wanting her to accept his proposal.

I mean, really? He, Derek Hale, just proposed to someone. Proposed. Asked her to become his wife.  
He was committing for… well, forever. He. Derek Hale.

One year ago he thought his pack was all he had, his only chance at family.  
Today he was asking Jennifer to be his forever.

"Jennifer?"

"I'm sorry. I think I'm having a heart attack." she murmured back, her huge eyes staring straight into his, "Do you mean it?"  
"Yes. I wouldn't have asked," he whispered, hope dying a little as he realized she was stalling, "Do you want to?"

"To ask? You already did."  
"No, I mean, do you want to marry me?"  
"You should be on your knees."  
"Are you saying no?"

His heart cringed at that; hope suddenly replaced by fear. Fear of misunderstanding her feelings, of rushing into this, of trusting her "I love you" too much.

"I'm… Derek, are you fully awake?" he nodded slowly, frowning, "Am I?"  
Again, he nodded, bummed out by the evidence of her soon-to-come rejection.

He shouldn't have asked; he just told her he loved her yesterday. This was too fast.

"Just say yes or no, Jennifer! You are killing me here."

She chuckled at his urgency, a sound that eased some of his anxiety, but that was not enough to lift the embarrassment from his shoulder.  
He just exposed himself to her and she was saying no.

"Ask again."  
"It wasn't supposed to be this complicated! This was stupid… I don't even-" he grumbles, backing a little from her body, his orbs falling to the floor.

"I'm… Oh, for God's sake, ask it again!" she ordered, rolling her eyes and dragging him back to her.  
"No."  
"Derek…" she purred and he looked at her, now confused; yet when he met her eyes he took a deep breath and asked again:

"Will you marry me?"  
"It's so cheesy!"  
"Jennifer, just answer the fucking question!"

She could drive him insane, always making everything kind of unpredictable, even a fucking marriage proposal was complicated and different with her.

A smile broke on her face and her thumb ran over his lower lip as she whispered:  
"Yes."

He didn't think a three letter word could take his breath away. He was wrong. It totally did.

As she guided him in to seal the promise with a kiss, murmuring that she would be honored to be his forever as long as he promised to be hers, he couldn't help to sneak his arms around her, murmuring on her skin:

"I fucking love Saturday Mornings."  
"I fucking love you."  
"I fucking love you, too."


End file.
